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Published: October 20th 2021
This morning we head out along the Arnhem Highway to the Adelaide River where we've booked to watch the "Jumping Crocodiles". We drive past seemingly endless fields of mango trees. Absolutely endless. There must surely be enough of these delicious fruit grown here to feed the entire world's population of mango lovers.
We board our craft and our guides Wookie and Noah launch into the obligatory safety briefing. We’re given a long lesson on how to put on our life jackets, which they tell us they're legally required to do. They then quickly add that if we're unlucky enough to fall overboard into this croc infested soup, drowning'll be the least of our worries. The crocs are clearly used to the routine - they swim enthusiastically towards the boat as we approach. Our guides have got names for all of them - Casanova, Pearl, Mama and Rockeye to name a few. One young lad on board seems to be just a tad concerned for his safety. He asks our guides whether a croc has ever jumped into the boat. A few minutes later he raises his hand again. This time it’s “has a croc ever nearly jumped into the boat”.
I think the answer's no, although it's a bit worrying that the response is slightly delayed. The crocs are all very obliging in leaping high out of the water to catch the bait on offer. We’re told that most of them have multiple fathers; it seems that if a female has been down and dirty with more than one bloke, all the male DNA somehow gets into all the eggs. We're told that none of these reptilian monsters are particularly friendly, even to each other. This is fairly evident from Mama, who seems to be missing a few limbs.
Our guides point out the kites (birds of prey) flying overhead. They throw them a few tasty morsels which they’re able to swoop down and catch with seemingly little effort. They’re apparently voracious predators. They’re particularly attracted to fires which leaves their prey more exposed and a bit easier to catch. It seems that they're the animal kingdom's answer to firebugs; if there's not enough prey to go around at one fire, they’ve apparently been known to swoop down, gather up some of the embers, and deposit them somewhere else to start a new one.
Issy says that the
name of the town Humpty Doo just makes her want to giggle, and we must stop at the pub there for lunch. It looks like a Territory institution with buffalo horns perched prominently above the bar.
On the way back to Darwin we comment on yet another apparent feature of life here - a preponderance of fireworks for sale. We're fairly sure they’re illegal just about everywhere else in Oz, but the manufacturers seem to be more than compensating for that here. If the number of ads are anything to go by there must be enough on offer to blow up a small town. We’ve no sooner finished this discussion when we spy a massive plume of thick black smoke up ahead, and police cars blocking off the roads leading towards it. ... a mishap at one of the fireworks factories perhaps - maybe it's just as well they’re banned everywhere else in the country.
We’ve been warned to fill in our COVID entry permits for Western Australia well in advance, so we launch into the process. Questions include where we’re going to quarantine if we need to, how and how long it will take to get there,
how we’re going to manage fatigue along the way, and how we’re planning to get food in while we’re locked up. I'm not quite sure why all this is necessary - if we thought we were going to get quarantined there we wouldn't go. We’re told that our applications will be subject to intense scrutiny. Both are approved within a minute. This is a bit worrying because it seems I‘ve accidentally put my name on Issy’s application by mistake, but with her date of birth, gender, and proof of identity document. Hmmm. If this is the level of scrutiny that the authorities are applying, no wonder half the country’s awash with COVID.
We’ve booked in for tepanyaki at a Japanese restaurant across the road from our apartment. We‘re jammed in tight around a large table around the chef, flanked by a family of nine Pacific islanders on one side and ten people of Greek descent on the other. It seems that both families are celebrating birthdays. Ten year old Katerina proudly announces that she’s booked her favourite chef to entertain us for the evening. ... and entertain us he does. Bowls full of rice and pieces of omelette start
flying in all directions. One bit of omelette manages to land down Issy’s top. The chef proudly announces that this was quite deliberate, and then casually asks me if I mind if he tries to retrieve it. There are also flames flying everywhere, and singed birthday girl is starting to look like a distinct possibility. The head of the islander family is singled out for special attention - he has to catch a bowl of rice tossed at him from the other end of the room. And of course there's the inevitable mishap. A rice bowl is tossed at Katerina's brother, who's sitting next to her, but it collects his glass of lemonade instead, drowning him in soft drink and splattering the floor with broken glass. It's all very entertaining; we tried to get in here last night, but it was booked out, and now we can see why. Issy orders a margarita, and we both get the giggles as we watch the proprietor spend several minutes carrying it nervously across the room. It's suspended precariously on a tray, and he's trying very hard to make sure he doesn't spill a drop. He breathes a sigh of relief as he reaches the table. Food finishes and the karaoke begins, but not before the Greek family shares young Katerina's birthday cake with everyone else around the table.
I get chatting to the proprietor. Neither he nor any of the other staff look Japanese, and sure enough they’re not. He says they’re all from East Timor via Victoria. He’s from Box Hill, his brother, the entertainer, is from Geelong, and the back room chef, who's his best mate, comes from Rosebud. Where else but in the Territory - a packed Japanese restaurant, but not a single Japanese person amongst either the staff or the guests......
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Playagal
Sal Foran Robusky
Jumping Crocs
That's interesting about your Covid protocols. For a while there were parts of Canada we couldn't go to but that's all opened up now as Canada's rate of fully vaccinated is nearing 75%. We do have to show our Covid passports in our province to prove we've had 2 doses to enter restaurants, bars, gyms etc. PS I too cracked up at Humpty Doo town name & I enjoyed the Japanese restaurant story. I prefer my omelette on my plate & not down my shirt. Cheeky chef he is!